


this war of hearts

by brookethenerd



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: It’s been years since Harry Potter ended Voldemort, years since the remaining death eaters were sent to Azkaban, years since the Battle of Hogwarts. Hogwarts is once again a place of learning; a place parents aren’t afraid to send their kids to.But when muggle borns start to die, paired with messages that sound an awful lot like old death eater threats, people are starting to think that maybe they weren’t able to get rid of all of them.Lukas Waldenbeck planned on keeping his crush on muggle born Philip Shea just that: a crush. But now that muggle borns are in danger, Lukas is desperate to keep Philip safe. But he’s just as desperate to keep their budding romance a secret.Things are getting messy at Hogwarts, and no one knows how many of them will come out alive.





	1. prologue

The first person to die is Millicent Gingrich. Her body is found in the girls bathroom, her face blue, skin clammy.

She isn’t cold, as one would expect a dead person to be. In fact, she’s quite warm.

It’s because of this that the girl who finds her believes her to be alive. She tries to stir her, shaking her and dripping water onto her forehead, but ultimately gives up and goes for help.

When McGonagall reaches the bathroom, followed by an array of teachers who had all been watching the Quidditch match, her blood goes cold.

She meets the eyes of the herbology Professor, Kamilah, who nods curtly, and steps in front of the girl.

“Go back to the match. She probably took a few too many vials of Calming Draught. Everything will be fine.” Kamilah says. The girl’s brows knit together, and she tries to peer around Kamilah, only to have her view blocked by the other professors.

“She’ll be alright. Just go.” Kamilah says. It’s obvious by her tone that she isn’t asking. The girl, still uncertain, steps back, gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

She doesn’t believe it for a second. She tried to stir Millicent, and she tried hard. She did everything short of smacking the girl in the face.

She may not have ever taken any herself, but Bella Milonkovic knows what Calming Draught looks like, and what Millicent has is not a byproduct.

She knows that something else is going on here. Something that can’t be good.

-

Once Bella clears the bathroom, Gabe Caldwell kneels beside Millicent, lips pursed.

“Lift up her shirt.” Kamilah says. Gabe looks up at her, cocking his head.

“Why?”

“She’s bleeding.” She says. Gabe drops his gaze to Millicent’s stomach; sure enough, her dark robe is stained with something wet. Gabe carefully pulls her robe to the side, revealing a white shirt painted maroon.

Gabe carefully peels the shirt off, as if to keep from hurting the girl, though they all know by now she’s dead.

It is what they see beneath the fabric that brings everything to a halt.

They all remember the battle in different ways. Some were students, and some fought with the students. Some lost children and friends and partners in that battle. The Battle of Hogwarts touched each one of them in the worst way it could manage. It was supposed to be the end; they had been told it was.

Even McGonagall believed it was over.

Maybe if they hadn’t been as close to the situation back then, seeing the words left on Millicent’s pale stomach wouldn’t be so horrifying.

But they were there. So seeing the words _mud blood_ , carved crudely in her skin, makes each one of them hold their breath.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” Ryan Kane asks. McGonagall looks at the potions professor, a dark look on her face.

“I don’t believe this is a joke at all, professor.” She says. Ryan doesn’t speak, crossing his arms against his chest. There’s something a bit too cocky about it, something that’s always been off putting. In everything he does, he seems to be a step ahead, or a level higher.

McGonagall knows she’s far too wary after all this time, and more often than not, her suspicions don’t pan out. She can’t help but be cautious.

She sat beside too many dying students to not suspect everyone who strikes her as odd as being on the other side.

“Bring her body to the infirmary. We need to find out how she was killed, and for what reason.” She continues.

“For what reason? I think it’s pretty obvious what the reason was.” Kane says, looking down at Millicent, her skin still on display. Gabe kneels beside her, and rebuttons her shirt and robe, though there isn’t a reason to other than for the sake of the girl who is no longer here to care. He picks her up carefully, as if afraid to hurt her, and gives McGonagall a nod.

“We’ll have Madam Popmfrey look her over. Go from there.” Kamilah says, following Gabe.

“I needn’t tell you two to keep this incident quiet. We can’t have the students seeing the body. ” McGonagall says.

Kamilah nods, face set. She and Gabe disappear through the doorway, looking each way to make sure the hall is clear before stepping out.

Only Kane, McGonagall, and two other professors-Neville and Pomona Sprout-remain.

“Professor…” Neville starts. Usually, she would chastise him for calling her that; it’s a habit Neville can’t quite seem to break, after all these years. It’s still a bit weird for Neville, working alongside the woman who used to terrify him. He sometimes dreamed that she knew of all the trouble he’d gotten into just by being associated with Harry Potter. Her cat eyes followed him everywhere.

“I know, Mr. Longbottom. I know.”

“I’ll call the ministry. Have them send over an auror or two.” Neville says. McGonagall nods, giving him a thin and not-at-all happy smile.

Neville heads the same direction that Gabe and Kamilah does, leaving only Kane and McGonagall in the bathroom.

“Anything you’d like me to do?” Kane asks. McGonagall bristles, and shakes her head, making sure to keep her discomfort at his offer off her face.

“Make sure everyone gets to their dormitories safely.”

“Babysitting?” Kane asks, nose crinkling slightly. McGonagall purses her lips, and Kane smoothes out his features.

“I’ve got it covered.” He says.

He leaves, carrying a few chips on his shoulder.

McGonagall lets her gaze fall to the puddle of blood on the floor, pulling her wand out of her pocket.

With an easy flick of her wrist the blood is turning to water, and making it’s way toward the drain in the floor.

And just like that, Millicent Gingrich’s murder is wiped away.


	2. and your grandfather clock is still ticking

As someone who grew up in the muggle world, Philip Shea has watched-and played-quite a few sports. None that he was good at, of course, but he played them. In alleys with kids from the apartment he lived in until the age of 7, on the yellow grass field with its chain fence outside of his gray elementary school, in the courtyard outside of his mother’s small apartment in the city.

None of them compare of Quidditch. There’s just something about watching people fly above him, ducking and chucking balls with minds of their own.

He loves the snitch, and watching it dart away from the Seekers. He loves the sound the fabric of the players clothes make as they whip by him. He loves the yelling and the excitement and the chaos.

Most of all, though, he loves watching Lukas.

Being the main photographer for the newspaper, he has an excuse to come to every game.

Philip lifts the camera to his eye, easily finding Lukas in the chaos of the game. That golden crop of hair atop his head, the confident way he sits on his broom. He pulls up, blocking the shot of one of the Slytherin Chasers-Bella Milonkovic. Philip can practically hear her curse from where he stands.

He snaps a shot of Bella ducking for the Quaffle, and of Lukas flying sideways in an attempt to try and block her.

Bella and Lukas are well known for their abilities when it comes to Quidditch. Bella is sneaky, and plays hard. Lukas is just plain talented. The two have a nasty rivalry.

Philip has lost count of the amount of times he’s listened to Bella throw curse after curse-the non magical type-at Lukas after a game. It’s become a game for him. How many cuss words can Bella possibly scream today?

His tally so far is 13.

He watches the rest of the game, snapping shots of everyone, but mostly of Lukas. He tells itself it’s because he’s the star player, the one that will likely be on the front page of the paper, but deep down, he knows that’s a load of crap.

He has a huge crush on Lukas Waldenbeck. Which is problematic for multiple reasons, but mostly because Lukas is straight, and Gryffindor, and pure blood.

All things he isn’t.

Philip quickly shuts that part of his brain off, refusing to go down that trail of thought. It’ll only lead to an ache in his chest and a pit in his stomach.

When the game is finally over, and the players are off the field, Philip tucks his camera away and heads for the Slytherin locker room to wait for Bella.

A few minutes later she emerges, hair mussed up, jaw set.

“Good game.” Philip says, half joking, half not. Bella lifts her eyes to his, and he can tell immediately that something is wrong.

Normally, Bella would fire off a round of threats-usually directed at Lukas or the other players. But today, she grabs him by the arm, and starts to march away.

Philip tugs his arm free, and jogs to keep up with her as they head back into the halls toward the Slytherin common room.

Instead of going in, though, she pulls him past the door and into the girls bathroom.

“Bella-“ Philip protests.

She turns to face him, eyes wild.

“Millicent Gingrich is dead.” She says.

Philip’s brows knit together, and he looks around, wondering if this is a joke. If it were anyone else, he would be convinced it was a prank.

But it’s Bella. Bella, who has never lied to him, who has defended him against every single person at this school who has given him shit for anything.

It was Bella who beat up the ravenclaw boy back in 3rd year that called his mother a filthy human. It was Bella who fought with him when a group of older Slytherin’s came after him, spitting about his muggle born status. It was Bella who he’s defended, who has defended him, since they met their first day at Hogwarts.

Bella wouldn’t mess with him.

“Millie? Hufflepuff Millie?” Philip asks. Bella shakes her head, an incredulous look on her face.

“Yes!”

“She’s-she’s-“

“Dead, Philip. She’s dead.”

“How?”

Bella drops her gaze to the floor, lips turned down in a frown.

“I found her here last night. Bloody. _Dead,”_

Philip didn’t know Millicent all that well. She was in another house, but seeing as that house was Hufflepuff, she was friends with most people. She was liked. She did a bunch of tutoring in muggle studies for the pure-bloods, being a muggle born herself.

Millicent. Dead. It doesn’t quite make sense, the two together.

Philip hasn’t known a lot of dead people. People that died while he knew them; The ghosts that wander the school not included, as they’ve been dead for a long time.

Philip knows he had a father. He knows he was a muggle. He knows he left before Philip was born. He doesn’t have any siblings.

Until that letter came when he was 12, it was just him and his mom and her drugs.

He hasn’t had a lot of people to lose. So this loss, even if it is a girl he barely knew, splits the earth apart.

People aren’t supposed to die at Hogwarts. Not anymore.

“What happened? How did she-“ Philip stops, the word _die_ falling before it leaves his tongue.

Bella’s brows furrow, and she licks her lips, shaking her head.

“I stayed outside the bathroom to listen. All I heard was _mudblood_.”

Philip’s throat constricts, and Bella’s nose crinkles, noticing the reaction.

“I know. That’s all I heard before Caldwell and Davis came out. I nearly got caught.” Bella says.

“Millie was-she was a hufflepuff. Why kill her?”

“Some hufflepuffs are annoying as hell. With all that friendliness.” Bella shudders, making a play at lightening the mood. He can tell she’s deflecting; she doesn’t want to talk about the dead girl. Philip gives her a long look, and she goes serious.

“She was probably involved in some stuff.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Philip says.

Bella purses her lips, and crosses her arms against her chest.

“We should get going. Care of Magical Creatures in ten minutes.” Bella says. She loops an arm through Philip’s, and starts to tug him away from the locker room and further into the school.

Philip can’t get Millicent Gingrich off his mind.

She was kind, and quiet, and loyal. She was good.

What could she have been involved in? And what did she do to get killed?

* * *

 

Philip is alone. Finally.

He’s just ducked out of the great hall after dinner, instead of heading back with the rest of his house. Bella gave him an amused smile, as if he were leaving to meet up with someone in the stairwell-the way she often does-when he stood up and slipped away, but she didn’t call attention to it or follow him.

He needs air. During the entire meal, his eyes kept gravitating towards the Hufflepuff table, who were all devastatingly quiet. Far quieter than usual. Like a dark blanket had descended upon them. It had an affect on the rest of the room, no one quite wanting to laugh too loud, the recent death making it seem forbidden.

He rubs his palms against his eyes, wandering down the hallways with no destination in mind.

He has an hour until he has to be back in his common room. That’s enough time to get lost.

He’s just passed one of the classrooms-possibly Muggle Studies or another class he never had to take-when the door opens, and a voice calls his name. He stops, and turns around, finding a tan man with closely-cropped dark hair who can’t be much older than him, standing in the doorway.

“You’re Philip Shea, right?” He asks, lips turning up in a wide smile. Philip crosses his arms against his chest, giving the man a curt nod.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” Philip says. The man backs up into his room, and Philip follows.

Inside, it looks like a thrift store threw up. On shelves all around the room sit random items. A giant purple spatula, a basketball, a stuffed dog, an empty McDonalds cup. There are electronics, sports equipment, and posters with singers and bands spanning back to the 1950’s.

Muggle Studies. Not what he expected the classroom to look like, but now that he’s here, it kind of fits.

He turns to the professor-Tony Michaels-and finds him sitting on the edge of his giant desk.

“I’m guessing you heard about Millie?” He asks, his easy smile from before dipping.

“Yeah.”

“Look, I know it’s a bad time. But I was wondering if you’d be willing to tutor one of my students, on the side. He’s having trouble, and I have so many kids, I can’t study one by one with him every day. Ya wanna help them all, but you just can’t.” Tony says.

“Why me?” Philip asks. Tony shrugs a shoulder, smiling apologetically.

“I asked around a bit. You’re one of the smartest kids here. And you’re muggle born. You know the world.”

“I’m not that smart.” Philip says.

“Street smart. Muggle world smart. Plus, you’re so good with the creatures.”

“Who told you that?”

“Gabe-Professor Caldwell. He says the Hippogriff took a liking to you.”

Philip presses his lips together, nodding.

He doesn’t add that he goes out to see the Hippogriff a few times a week. Whenever he needs to clear his head, or just breathe outside air, he heads into the woods. She comes immediately, as if able to read his mind. Sometimes she lets him ride her. Other times she just ducks her head, and he rubs her head.

Philip isn’t sure if he’s allowed to do it. According to Professor Caldwell, the Hippogriff can be dangerous. He often tells a horror story of Draco Malfoy, which always earns snickers from the class..

“I guess.” Philip says.

“I’d give you an elective credit. Like you’re a TA. You’d get a free period.”

“A free period?”

“I was a TA when I was here, to the old professor. I got to sleep in. It was awesome.” Tony says.

Philip purses his lips.

“Who am I tutoring?”

Tony’s lips pull up in a wide grin, his brows arching.

“So you’ll do it?”

“Who?”

“Lukas Waldenbeck.” Tony says.

* * *

 

“Lukas Waldenbeck? Quidditch player Lukas? _Asshole_ Lukas?” Bella explodes, pacing around the room. One of Philip’s roommates-James-watches on silently, gaze solidly locked on Bella’s chest. His other roommate-Archie-isn’t quite as happy to have Bella in their room. But he doesn’t say anything, and hasn’t for a while. Not after Philip walked in on him and his boyfriend beneath the sheets.

“I don’t like it either.” Philip says, not even conjuring enough effort to believe it himself. Bella throws her hands up, and drops down on the edge of James’ bed; he jumps, pulling his legs up to give her more room.

“You just think he’s cute.” Bella says.

“I do n-“

“He is cute.” Archie pipes in, looking up from his book. Philip gives him a long look, to which Archie just smirks, and turns the page.

“I’m not marrying him. I’m tutoring him.” Philip says. Bella scoffs.

“You’d like to, though.”

“Philip already agreed to marry me.” Archie says, not even looking up this time.

“I don’t need your input, Alfredo.”

“Alfredo? Isn’t that a muggle sauce for…pasta?” He asks, setting his book down, reaching up and brushing the hair off his forehead.

Bella looks to Philip, arching a brow.

“Yes. It’s pasta sauce.” Philip says. Bella smiles, as if he’s just given her a gift.

“Thank you.” She says, giving Archie a look. He rolls his eyes, and sits back against his headboard.

“Why are we talking about Lukas?” Archie asks.

“Because Philip is in love with him.” Bella says. Philip narrows his eyes.

“He’s tutoring Lukas because he’s stupid. Better?” She asks, turning her focus back to Philip.

“Better.” He says.

“He’s an asshole. A cocky, cheating asshole.” Bella says.

“He’s never actually cheated.” Philip says.

“Philip.”

“I’m just saying, he’s good.” He sees the crinkle of her nose, and quickly amends.

“Not as good as you.”

Bella stands up, arms crossed.

“When do you start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You’re not ditching lunch, right?”

“No.”

“Good. Because if I have to listen to anybody blabbing about Millie, I’m going to give them antlers.” Bella says.

Philip softens. Though she tries to hide it, Bella feels. And she was friends with Millie. Not very close, but they were friends.

Kids talk, and when they talk, it’s often cruel. Growing up the way he did, Philip has gotten used to rude and insensitive comments.

And with Millie being muggle born, Philip knows people are making comments about it.

His head hurts. The stress of the day is getting to him, and all he can do is flop back on his bed after Bella leaves.

He chases sleep for a long time; she slips through his fingers time after time, until finally, he catches her, and she pulls him under.

* * *

 

The professor watches the boy as he rushes back towards his common room.

He steps out from behind the pillar, and the boy slams to a halt, eyes going wide.

“Professor. I’m-I’m going back to my dorm now. I was just-“

“It’s alright. We all make mistakes.” He says, giving the boy an easy smile. One of his hands slips into his robe pocket, reaching for his wand. The boy relaxes at the sight of a smile, and gives an apologetic one in return.

“I was studying. Lost track of time.”

“O.W.L.S. Coming up soon for you?”

“Yes, sir. Two months.”

“You’re Alan, right? Alan Abbott?”

“Yes, sir.”

He’s quite small, Alan Abbott. Though he’s a 5th year, he’s short and stocky.

“Your parents, they’re muggles?”

The boy’s smile falters.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Well. Isn’t that something.”

The boy looks around him, licking his lips nervously.

“It is, sir.”

The professor pulls his wand out, and makes a tsking sound with his tongue.

There aren’t many more words exchanged between the two. There are a few pleading whispers from Alan, and a few explanations of the reason for the pain from the professor.

Ultimately, though, he picks up Alan Abbott’s lifeless body and brings it out to the lake. He puts a spell on it, making the body weigh ten times what it already does, and drops it in.

He was too sloppy last time. He was rushed, and didn’t have time to clean up.

He knows he’ll get better with practice.

After all, there are quite a few muggle borns at Hogwarts.


	3. and this is how it starts

Initially, Lukas wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of having a tutor in the first place. All that the early sessions with Millie did were make him feel stupid. She often had to explain concepts time after time, in that calm and easy way of hers. Never did she get irritated, or snap at him for not understanding.

He was able to keep what he was doing quiet. It isn’t that no one else needed tutors; it’s that Lukas had-and has-an image, and failing Muggle Studies wasn’t part of that.

Then Millie died. And now everything is different.

The professor-Tony-told him his new tutor would meet him in the library, a few days after Millie’s death, but didn’t give a name.

Lukas spent the time leading up to it anxious. He even had a dream where he walked into the library and found half of his house standing there, laughing at him.

Now, as he walks the familiar path to the library, his stomach is in knots. It coils inside of him, squeezing and tightening. He scans the hallway for a trash can, hoping one magically appears. He doesn’t know the spell to conjure one, or if it exists, but he right now he wishes he had one. He might puke. If he pukes, maybe he can avoid getting tutored.

He pushes through the door, and scans the faces of the few people in the library this late, relieved to see mostly 1st and 2nd years.

Except for one person.

Sitting near the wall, thumbing through a book, his lips pressed together, is Philip Shea.

Lukas’ stomach drops. Not just drops: it runs and screams. Lukas wishes he could follow it, out of the library, and back to the common room.

Of all the possible people Tony could have chosen for a tutor, he chose Philip.

Lukas and Philip aren’t friends. They run in different circles, they’re in different houses, they have different hobbies.

But that doesn’t mean Lukas doesn’t know him. God, he knows him. He wishes he didn’t; that would make things easier.

He knows him. And he’s had a crush on him since he was 12. A crush he shouldn’t have, a crush that makes him sick just to think about. With every beat of his heart he hears the word _wrong wrong wrong_.

Watching Philip from afar made things easy. Painful, but easy.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to sit here with him, try to learn, with this burning attraction bubbling up inside him, threatening to spill over.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of his heart, and walks over to Philip, standing awkwardly in front of him. Philip doesn’t notice him immediately, and Lukas shifts his weight, already squirmy.

Philip lifts his head, and for a moment, he just looks at Lukas blankly. Then his lips pull thin, and he closes his book.

“Hey. I’m Philip.” He says.

“I know.” Lukas says. Philip’s brows furrow, and Lukas frantically covers his tracks.

“Tony told me. This morning.” He says. Philip’s face smoothes out, and he nods; there’s something like disappointment in his eyes, but it’s gone so fast Lukas is sure he’s seeing things.

“We’re gonna start with some books, if that’s cool.”

He stands up, and heads toward the restricted section. Lukas follows him, a step behind him, both wanting to avoid talking to him and wanting to ask him everything.

“We can just come in here?”Lukas asks as Philip scans the shelves. Philip, not quite paying attention, nods.

“6th years and up. You didn’t know?”

Lukas rubs a hand along the back of his neck, hoping the blush on his cheeks isn’t obvious.

“Uh-No.”

Rather than scold him for not knowing, Philip doesn’t even comment on it.

It’s different than what Lukas is used to. Growing up, he listened to the voice of his father, telling him what he had to be, and what he couldn’t be. He wasn’t fond of Lukas playing Quidditch, and he definitely wasn’t fond of him taking Muggle Studies as a class.

Lukas has always found the muggle world-and the muggles-interesting. He watches the muggle born students as they chatter about things he and the other pure bloods will never understand.

The world confuses him, but fascinates him.

He watches as Philip ducks down, pulling a thick-spined book out. It’s chained to the case, which makes Lukas hesitate.

“Why is it chained up?” He asks. Philip stands up, an innocent look on his face.

“Probably so kids don’t walk out with it. There’s lots of dark magic stuff in here.” He says. Lukas gives him a look, but takes the book from Philip.

It’s heavier; heavier than he expected. It’s bound in leather, with the texture of skin; Lukas is really hoping that’s just a print, and he isn’t holding some dead creature in his hands.

He opens the book, and is immediately blasted with hot air and a loud scream.

For a moment, he’s so shocked all he can do is stare into the open mouth of the book. Then he drops it, and it starts to snap, coming after Philip’s ankles.

Philip, who has a sly smile on his face, slams his foot on top of it, forcing it’s mouth shut. He wrangles it back onto the shelf, giving it a nudge with the toe of his sneaker to make sure it’s back tight enough.

Then he stands up, turns to face Lukas, and tries to tame the huge grin on his face.

“What the hell was that?” Lukas asks. Philip presses his lips together, shrugging.

“Sorry. It was a favor.” He says.

Lukas’ brows furrow.

“Bella Milonkovic?”

“That’s the one.”

“I know her.” Lukas says.

Philip gives him a shy smile, and pushes past him, back into the library, saying “I know,” as he passes.

Lukas follows him to the back of the library, with all of it’s worn chairs and the occasional snoring book. He chooses the large window sill, climbing up and sitting on the large bench, back pressed to the glass. Lukas climbs up beside him, not quite as relaxed as Philip seems to be.

“I was able to get my owl to go home and get a few things.”

“Your owl? But wouldn’t people see?”

Philip just shrugs. He pulls his bag onto his lap, and opens it.

He pulls out an object Lukas has never seen before. It’s a small white rectangle, with a black screen. At the bottom, is a circular button. It has various holes along the edges; their purposes are lost on Lukas.

“This is my cell phone. It’s how people talk in the muggle world.”

He presses the button at the bottom, and the screen lights up, showing a picture of Philip and a woman, who must be his mother, posing in front of a gray sheet. They’re wearing Christmas sweaters, and the woman is looking over at Philip, like she’s in the middle of telling a joke. Philip is smiling, happy.

It’s a Philip that Lukas hasn’t been able to know. The Philip he sees is quiet, reserved. He isn’t very approachable, unless you know him personally. The only time Lukas sees him laughing is with Bella and his roommate Alphie and his boyfriend, Hunter.

Philip clears his throat, and slides his finger across the screen, opening the phone to a bunch of little squares, with that same picture in the background.

While wizards’ pictures move, muggles’ don’t. They capture one frame, and one frame only.

You can’t get the whole picture in one frame, though. Lukas has always loved reading the newspapers, because half the story is in the picture above it.

“So, Tony gave me a copy of the test. We’re just gonna go over stuff. If you don’t get it, or something, just ask, I guess.” Philip says, averting his gaze.

Lukas watches as a stray piece of hair falls over Philip’s forehead; Philip doesn’t seem to notice, having just pulled out a stack of stapled papers, that must be the test.

Before he can stop himself, Lukas reaches out and nudges it up.

Philip’s head snaps up, and for a moment, his eyes flick around Lukas’ face, uncertainty forming a crease between his brows. He doesn’t say anything; if he’s anything like Lukas right now, he can’t even form a coherent sentence.

But this, this is dangerous. Lukas regrets it immediately.

His father’s voice rings in his head.

_He’s at Hogwarts on work, and he sees Archie and Hunter walking through the hall toward the Quidditch field, hands twined together. They’re happy, smiling, completely unaware of the disapproving look Bo Waldenbeck is giving them. Lukas sees Philip and Bella walking behind them, and his stomach twists._

Philip clears his throat, and looks back down, thumbing through the test. Lukas tries to tear his eyes away, but he can’t. He just can’t.

He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want it.

He tells himself it isn’t real. That all those times he saw Philip, it wasn’t him he wanted, but Bella, who was always with him. Bella, Bella, Bella. Her name is like ash on his tongue.

Philip’s is like cool water and oranges and light. He’s everything.

But he’s also nothing, at least to Lukas. Because he has to be.

* * *

 

When Philip gets back to his dorm, he’s immediately bombarded by questions. Bella jumps from off of his bed, and Archie moves to sit at the end of his, his boyfriend Hunter sitting behind him.

“How was it? Did you do the dare?” Bella asks.

“The dare? What dare?” Hunter asks, through a thick southern accent.

Hunter has been as permanent a fixture in Philip’s dorm room since 4th year. Philip came in a few days into the beginning of 4th year, and found a pale boy with a messy head of blonde curls and more freckles than Philip had ever seen on a person. He was napping, and Philip, knowing he was in the right room, started working on homework.

Archie, of course, introduced him later. A few days later. But by then, the two already knew each other.

The three of them-Philip, Archie, and James-have gotten accustomed to having more than 3 people in the room most days. James, too, has brought both girls and boys up to the room, though none of them have stuck the way Archie and Hunter has. And he doesn’t bring his best friend up to the room, because the one time he did, Bella screamed at him for staring at her ass.

“You did the screaming book, didn’t you?” Archie asks, an evil grin pulling on his lips. Hunter smirks from behind him.

“If we keep doing that, they’re gonna take away our access to the Restricted section.” James says, nose crinkled. Archie grins, and leans across the space between the beds, tapping James’ bed post.

“Looks like you won’t be able to use it as a makeout zone.”

“No way in hell am I risking that. McGonagall sees everything.” James says.

“If you’re gonna make out, you find an abandoned hall. Not the middle of the Restricted section.” Hunter says.

“You would know.” Archie says, looking back at him. Hunter makes a face, and climbs off the bed, grabbing his bag.

“Rude.” He says. Archie reaches out and grabs his arm, frowning.

“Don’t leave me with James.” He says, teasing. James snorts.

“You think I’m gonna come on to you? _Again_?”

“You were totally flirting, man.”

“We were 12.”

“And?”

Hunter swats Archie's hand away, and smirks.

“I have class. Muggle studies. So do you, James.” Hunter says. James frowns, but gets to his feet, and grabs his own bag.

“That’s where Philip’s boyfriend is going!” Bella chirps. Philip gives her a withering look, to which she grins.

Archie stands up to, and throws an arm around Hunter, tugging him against him. Hunter protests, but Archie starts walking, tugging him out of the room.

“I’m guessing you’re walking us to class?” James asks. Archie calls out a yes, and the three disappear, headed down the stairs and out of the common room, leaving Bella and Philip.

With the others gone, Bella stretches out across Philip’s bed, feet on the headboard, head nearly hanging off. Philip lays down beside her, the two barely fitting beside each other on the twin bed.

Bella lets out a sigh, and Philip knows he’s in for some drama. It isnt just a normal sigh. It’s a I-have-something-to-tell-you sigh.

“What is it?” Philip asks.

Bella pauses, hesitating for likely the first time in her life. Philip’s brows furrow, and he looks over at her.

“What?”

“There’s a guy.”

“A special guy?”

“They’re all special.” Bella says. Philip rolls his eyes.

“But, yeah. Special.”

“Why is he special?”

Again, the hesitation.

“He’s older.”

“Like, a seventh year?”

Philip can see her biting on her lip out of the corner of his eyes.

“Bella.”

“He’s older. A lot older.”

Philip sits up, turning to look down at her. She crinkles her nose, throwing an arm over her face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Tell me it isn’t a professor.” Philip says. Bella winces.

“Bella.”

“He’s a professor. But he’s not super old. He’s in his 30s.”

“And you guys are…?”

“Together. I guess.”

Philip presses his lips together, trying not to freak out on her. It’s not like she hasn’t has crushes on professors or older kids. I mean, there was a temporary teacher for Muggle Studies-before Gabe Caldwell-who was there for the last week of school a year ago. He was in his early twenties, with the prettiest dark eyes Philip had ever seen.

But this is different. This isn’t a crush. This is Bella dating a teacher. It’s illegal, just because of the age difference. It’s illegal because she’s a student, and he’s a teacher. It’s not just illegal; it’s wrong.

Philip has a sick feeling in his stomach. Something inside of him gnarling and clawing, trying to warn him.

He knows nothing good can come of this. But, knowing Bella, he also knows he has no way of stopping her.

He hopes that it’ll end. The two won’t work out, and things will go back to normal. Bella will continue working her way into the hearts of the students, rather than the teachers.

But something tells him it won’t work out that way.

* * *

 

The third to die is a boy named Elias. He’s making his way toward the Potions class room when a hand snakes out and grabs him, pulling him through a doorway he hadn’t even known was there.

He kills him before he can scream. When he finishes, he too takes this body out to the lake, and watches it sink.

There’s a small flicker of regret when the head disappears beneath the surface, but he quickly shoves it down.

He has a job to do. And with the incarceration of all of his past associates, he is the only one who can do it.

He doesn’t know how long it’ll take. But if he’s lucky, it’ll continue to be as easy as this.

The flick of a wand. The words Avada Kedavra, the flick of a wand, a body sinking in the water.

Easy. Easy. So, so easy.


	4. hate to see you like a monster so I run and hide

Wanting someone you can’t have hurts. An unrequited love story is one of the saddest. There are no dramatic scenes of grandeur, no kisses that pop with passion, no hearts pounding in rhythm with each other.

This is falling in love alone; this is falling in love with someone you can’t have, someone you can never have, someone you shouldn’t want in the first place.

It’s like someone is reaching into Lukas’ belly and twist, twist, twisting until his intestines are messier than his head.

He doesn’t want to want Philip. He wishes he could just go to his tutoring sessions, and focus on learning the material, rather than memorize the lines of Philip’s face, day dream about kissing him and brushing his hair back and listening to him laugh.

“Lukas?” Lukas’ head snaps up, and he looks around, realizing how empty the library has become. The desks and aisles have emptied out, and only dim light illuminates the place, the sky dark outside.

His gaze locks on Philip, lips parting.

“Sorry. I got distracted.”

“It’s been like two hours. I think we’re good for the night.” Lukas likes the way he says _we_.

“Okay. Cool.” Lukas says.

Philip’s lips curl up slightly, and he grabs the textbook from in front of Lukas, closing it. He gets up and tucks it back into the shelves, and pushes his chair in, standing behind it. He grabs onto the edges and leans forward, watching Lukas with uncertainty.

“What?” Lukas asks.

Philip presses his lips together, averting his eyes.

“You wanna see something cool?” He asks.

Lukas’ stomach twists painfully, his tongue dry. He nods, and stands up.

He follows Philip out of the library and into the hall, letting him lead him to a part of the school he hasn’t seen in years. It’s home to the classes for 4th years and below.

Lukas doesn’t know why Philip is bringing him here.

Philip stops walking, veering to the right, coming to a blank spot of wall. Lukas’ brows furrow, and he’s about to speak when Philip pulls his wand out and says “ _Diffindo_!”

From nowhere, the cracks appear in the stone, forming a tall rectangle. Then, a wooden frame and a dark door. Lastly, a knob. Philip looks over at Lukas, obviously amused at the shocked look on Lukas’ face.

“What did you do?” He asks.

Philip grins, pulls the door open, and steps into the darkness. Lukas follows, and once they’re inside, Philip tugs the door shut; it disappears the minute it closes.

“Hogwarts has hundreds of tunnels. They go everywhere. Some of them even go off campus.”

“How did you find them?” Lukas asks, pulling his wand out, a bright light appearing at the tip after a moment. He looks at the walls; stone, the ceiling only going up a few feet higher than his head. The stone path splits off in at least 4 directions, each dimly lit, though he doesn’t see any sources of light.

“It found me, actually.” Philip says. Lukas looks back at him, and Philip shrugs.

“During 2nd year. I was wandering. Found it on accident.”

“You just stumbled into hidden tunnels?”

“The door revealed itself to me. I don’t know why.”

Philip moves past Lukas, heading down one of the paths.

“You coming?” He asks, looking over his shoulder. Lukas’ lips curl up in a smile, and he nods, following.

They walk for a long time; Philip seems to know where he’s going, though Lukas has no idea how.

Eventually, Philip finds what he’s looking for. He takes a turn, and Lukas follows.

He finds himself in a room. Though it makes absolutely no sense, they’re in a room that looks like a small library. All 4 walls are covered by books; books that are floating around, shifting, changing places. The only sound in the room is the fluttering of the pages.

Lukas looks up, and sees even more books on the ceiling. A grin tugs on his lips, and he drops his gaze to Philip, who is watching him with slightly furrowed brows.

He’s looking at him, and maybe it’s the oddity of the situation, or the crease between Philip’s brows, or maybe it’s that Lukas is tired of staying away, but he finds himself moving across the room, toward Philip. Philip backs up until he hits the wall, the books scattering as he moves toward them.

Lukas is standing right on front of him, his heart beating so loud he fears it’s going to bust out of his chest.

Everything gravitates toward Philip. Lukas reaches up, brushing the hair off of Philip’s forehead. Philip watches him, completely still, as if Lukas is a deer, and he doesn’t want him to flee.

He doesn’t want to run. Not right now. Right now, he doesn’t care that wanting Philip is wrong. He doesn’t care that it’s bad, and will only land him in a deeper hole than the one he’s already in.

He’s looking at Philip, and Philip is looking at him, and that’s all that matters.

Carefully, Lukas’ hands move to the sides of Philip’s neck, Philip’s own hands coming up to rest on top of them. Lukas’ eyes flick down to Philip’s lips, then back to his mouth, and he knows he’s in this now.

Philip doesn’t dare move. Though Lukas is taking an eternity, and knows it, Philip doesn’t move.

And finally, Lukas does.

He leans forward, eyes closing. Only when his mouth is inches from Philip’s does Philip move, tilting his chin up, closing the distance between them.

He kisses Philip carefully, almost fearing that he’ll break.

Lukas pulls back, eyes flicking around Philip’s face. Philip is trying to stay still, but his eyes are on fire. He leans forward, trying to kiss Lukas again, but Lukas stops him.

“You can’t tell. You can’t tell anyone.” He says.

“Fine. Whatever you want.” Philip says, almost breathless.

“Promise.”

“I promise.” Philip says.

Lukas nods. Something flickers in Philip’s eyes, and his hands slide to Lukas’ neck, leaning forward again.

This time, Lukas lets him. Their lips meet and part beneath each other, tongues flicking against teeth, hearts beating like battering rams.

Lukas could do this forever. He wants to do this forever.

He’s had other kisses. But not one of them compares to this. Not one has had the power to nail him to the floor, had the power to light a fire across his skin, had the power to make his stomach claw its way up his throat.

He’s kissing Philip. He never wants to stop. He isn’t planning on stopping, not any time soon.

Then Lukas hears a voice. It isn’t Philip’s or his, and it isn’t the voice of a ghost. Lukas has come to recognize the filmy sound the voice of the many ghosts all share.

This is someone human. And they’re not alone.

Lukas pulls back, and he knows Philip heard the voice too, because he’s stepping away and looking out into the tunnel. Lukas comes to stand beside him, and the minute they step through the doorway, it disappears, replaced by solid stone, like the room had never been there.

The two flinch at the sudden rush of cold.

“You’re psychotic!” A voice yells. Lukas doesn’t quite recognize it; it’s familiar, but the name falls before it reaches his tongue.

But Philip reacts immediately.

He jerks forward, and Lukas races after him, following him as he runs through the tunnels, toward the voice.

Lukas hears a scream, and grabs onto Philip, dragging him back before he can turn the corner and find whoever is down here.

Something is wrong. The tunnels are forbidden; Philip said so.

The voice is that of a student. Someone young.

The voice of Bella Milonkovic.

Lukas’ stomach drops, something about the situation rubbing him raw, and he wraps an arm around Philip, tugging him back. Philip struggles in his grip, and is about to yell when Lukas wraps a hand around his mouth, keeping him quiet.

Philip tries to bite his fingers, bucking against him, trying desperately to get out of Lukas’ arms, but failing. Lukas has been playing Quidditch for years; chucking the balls around, balancing on the broomstick. He’s strong; strong enough to hold Philip back.

A man’s voice echoes off the walls, but Lukas doesn’t recognize it, and Philip doesn’t either. He goes still at the sound, stops his attempt to get free. He stands in front of Lukas, seeming confused.

Lukas is confused, too. None of this makes sense. Bella, the man, the tunnels, her voice rising, the room disappearing behind them. None of it makes sense.

Philip goes limp, straining to listen as the voices being again.

“Don’t touch me.” Bella snarls at the man, her voice hard. Still, Lukas can hear the fear in it.

“Don’t make me do this, Bells.” The man says.

“Don’t call me that.” She hisses in response.

“I’m going to tell them all. I’ll tell every one of them.” Bella yells. It sounds like she tries to run away, but the sound of a scuffle stops them.

Light fills the tunnels. Philip realizes what’s happening a split second before Lukas does; Philip lunges, escaping Lukas’ grip.

Everything happens so fast. Lukas reaches for Philip, fingers grasping for the fabric of his robe. Bella begins to scream, and just as quickly stops. The words _Avada Kedavra_ sound in their ears. A body hits the stone with a _thump_. Philip lets out a strangled moan.

The world speeding up around him, Lukas grabs for Philip, and catches him by the arm, dragging him back. Philip seems to understand that he needs to go, they need to get out, because he stops fighting, and starts running.

The two of them sprint through the tunnels, not trying to get anywhere but _away_.

Lukas is sure they’ve run miles, though it’s only been a few minutes, when Philip drags his wand out of his robe and points it at the stone a few feet in front of them, whispering a spell. A door appears, and the two burst through it.

Lukas slams it shut, and Philip lifts his wand, and says “Colloportus.”

The door disappears, and the two drop to their knees on the stone floor, breathing heavily.

Then Philip drags himself to his feet, lips parted, shock on his face. Lukas stands up, too, and reaches for Philip. Philip lets himself be pulled into his arms, and buries his face in Lukas’ neck.

There is little comfort in the embrace, but neither pulls away from it. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the horror of it, maybe it’s that Lukas has wanted to do this for so long, or maybe the fact that the thing Lukas has wanted for years has turned into the worst night of his life, and likely of Philip’s, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Bella. We have to find Bella.” Philip says blankly, pulling away, eyes on the blank wall they just came through.

“Philip-“

“We have to get Bella. We have to-“ Philip stumbles, stumbles, nearly falls, only to be caught by Lukas.

Everything fell apart so quickly. He was kissing Philip, and things were good. But now Bella is dead, and Philip is shattered, and Lukas is feeling a bit broken, too.

His brain can’t quite comprehend what’s just happen. Instead of focusing on the fact that he just witnessed the death of Philip’s best friend-with an unforgiveable curse, to make it worse-he instead finds himself looking down his hands, which are raw and bloody from slamming into the stone floor.

“Lukas.” Philip says. Normally, Lukas would be melting at the sound of his name on Philip’s lips. But right now, Philip’s voice is that of a broken record, and he doesn’t know how to stop it in it’s scratching.

“I don’t-I don’t know what to do. What do I do?” Philip asks, eyes wide and dripping with fear.

“We have to tell someone. We have to-“

Lukas grabs Philip by the shoulders, forcing him to look at him.

“We can’t tell, Philip. We weren’t supposed to be down there in the first place. We’d get expelled.”

“Bella’s _dead_ , Lukas-“

“What could we tell them that would help? Did you see the guy? Did you see anything at all?”

Philip shakes his head, “No, but-“

“The professors will handle it. We can’t be involved. What if they think it was us?” Lukas says. A pained expression comes over Philip’s face.

“But it’s Bella-“

“We can’t, Philip. We can’t tell. We can’t.” Lukas whispers, head bent close to Philip’s. Tears well in Philip’s eyes, and he nods, keeps nodding, doesn’t stop until Lukas pulls him back into a hug.

“We have to get out of here. We have to get back to our dorms.” Lukas says. Philip lets out a trembling breath, and pulls out of Lukas’ arms.

“Okay. Okay.” Philip says.

He turns to walk away, and Lukas yearns to reach for him, to pull him back into his arms. But he knows he’s done enough, he knows that he’s already gotten closer than he should. He knows that nothing good can come from this road he’s gone down; hell, it’s already gotten Philip’s best friend killed.

 _Killed_. _Missing._ Words he’s heard more in the past few days than in his entire life.

First, Millie. _Killed_. Then the others, _missing_ , presumed dead.

For the first time, he’s terrified. If whoever this is can take Millie, two other kids, and Bella Milonkovic, no one is safe.

He isn’t safe. Philip isn’t safe. No one is safe.

His stomach claws it’s way up to his mouth, vomit following, and Lukas barely makes it to the door before he’s retching into the snow outside. It’s only October, but the snow has already made itself home at Hogwarts.

So, it seems, has a killer.

* * *

  


Helen Torrance stands in her new classroom, Gabe Caldwell leaning against her podium, watching her as she walks around the room, inspecting and re-inspecting the few decorations Gabe brought from home to spice the room up.

“What if I don’t catch him?” Helen muses, eyes on the windows along the wall up near the ceiling.

“You will. You always do.” Gabe says, coming to stand beside her, using a hand to draw her toward him. She furrows her brows, and looks at him.

“I’ve been too late before. I’m too late now.”

“You’re going to stop this. _We’re_ going to stop this.”

“Gabe-“

“The ministry sent you for a reason. You’re their best auror. You always get the job done.”

Helen purses her lips, and threads her fingers through Gabe’s when he nudges her hand with his.

“How many children have to die before that?” She asks.

Gabe doesn’t have an answer for her. So, instead of speaking, he presses a kiss to her temple.

It isn’t enough. He knows that. But Helen doesn’t say anything back, and she lets Gabe lead her to his-now, their-quarters, and lays with her in his arms until she falls asleep.


	5. bella, bella, bella

The words _Bella_ and _Dead_ have never gone together before, so now that they’re real, Philip can’t quite comprehend it.

It’s Archie who finds him sitting in the snow in the morning, lips blue, shivering inside his robe. Without asking what happened, or even saying anything at all, Archie helps him up and brings him back up to the dorm. He doesn’t speak, or look at Philip like he’s crazy for sitting out in the snow. He simply helps him into bed, and casts a warming spell on him, letting it stay until his skin is back to it’s normal color.

Only then does he sit down on the edge of his bed, lips pursed. Philip can tell he doesn’t really want to ask, but knows he needs to.

He doesn’t get the chance. One of the girls-a 4th year-runs in, her face white.

“They found another body.” She says. Archie looks at at Philip, then back at the girl.

“Who?”

The girl looks to Philip, tears welling in her eyes.

“Bella.” She says, dissolving into tears after the name has left her lips. Archie has no sympathy, and shoos her out, closing the door. He leans against it, head tipped back against the wood, and closes his eyes.

Bella, Bella, Bella.

“Philip.” He says quietly.

Again, he doesn’t get the chance to say anything; Hunter opens the door, eyes landing on Archie.

“They’re asking for Philip. The professors want to talk to him.” He says, frowning. Archie looks down at Philip, who nods, and climbs out of bed, wrapping his robe around himself, hands dug into it’s pockets. He slips his sneakers on, and the three of them leave the room together.

Philip doesn’t even have to ask that they join him. They just follow, somehow both knowing that if they don’t walk beside him, Philip will fall.

When they reach McGonagall’s office, the two boys stop, this as far as they can go. They step out of the way, Archie giving a supporting grimace, and Philip goes inside, the door clanging shut behind him. He stops right inside of it, and doesn’t step forward until McGonagall, standing at the window, eyes on the white sky outside, turns to face him and nods that he come toward her.

He sees one of the other professors-Neville Longbottom-standing off to the side, lips turned down in a sad smile.

“Mr. Shea. Please.” McGonagall says, gesturing to the small armchair she has sitting off to the side. She herself moves to the love seat, and Professor Longbottom takes the other side of it. Philip sits down, uncomfortable, still unable to see past the image of Bella’s body on the stone.

“I’ve no doubt that you’ve heard the tragic news.” She begins. Philip nearly snorts. He didn’t just hear. He saw. He was _there_.

Lukas’ pleas ring in his head; his terrified _don’t tell, don’t tell, please don’t tell._

Philip averts his gaze, bile rising in his throat.

“I’m sure you also know that this hasn’t been the only incident like this lately.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Philip says, stomach rolling.

“I understand you were close to Bella Milonkovic.”

“Yeah. Yes. I was.” Philip says.

“We’re planning on having a memorial. For all the students that have…that have passed. We were hoping you could choose something of Bella’s.”

“How many of them?” Philip asks. McGonagall meets Professor Longbottom’s eyes, and something unspoken passes between them.

“How many other kids?” He says.

“I tell you this only because you’re so close to the situation. You mustn’t let this spread. It will only scare the students further.” McGonagall says.

“I swear.”

“Two more bodies-apart from Bella and Millie-have been found.”

“Who?”

She stops, and for a moment, Philip is sure she isn’t going to tell him. She’s going to force him back into the hall, the promise to keep quiet taped to his lips.

Then, she says, “Alan Abbott and Elias Weathersby.”

Philip’s brows furrow, and he’s about to speak when the bell sounds overheard and the voices of students fill the halls, their sound only slightly muffled through the thick door and walls.

“You’re exempt from your classes today, if you wish to be. Madam Pompfrey has calming draughts for students particularly affected.” McGonagall says. Philip shakes his head.

His first class is DADA. He has Lukas in that class. All of a sudden, he’s the only person Philip wants to see. Other than Bella.

Philip nods, and turns to leave. The minute he reaches the door, McGonagall calls his name.

“Bella and the other students will get their justice.” She says. Philip presses his lips together, and heads out into the hall and the throng of students.

* * *

 

“My name is Helen Torrance. I’m your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.” Professor Torrance says, standing in front of her desk in the large classroom.

No one speaks, or so much as kicks anyone else’s chair. The deaths-especially Bella’s death-has made them all go quiet.

Philip sits in the back beside Archie and Hunter, trying not to look at the empty seat beside him where Bella belongs. Instead of looking at the empty chair, he finds his eyes drawn to Lukas, who sits a couple rows up. His hair is messier than usual, and Philip assumes he got just as much sleep as Philip did; none at all.

“What do we know about the Unforgiveable Curses?” She asks.

“That they’re unforgiveable.” A voice says. Helen purses her lips, tilting her head slightly.

“Alright. What else?” She asks, stepping away from her desk, moving down the aisles. She stops when she reaches Lukas’ row, and looks at him.

“Mr. Waldenbeck. How many Unforgivable Curses are they?”

Lukas swallows visibly, and sits up in his chair. Philip watches him, squirming himself.

“3.”

“And their names?”

“The Cruciatus Curse. The Imperius Curse.” Lukas says. He stops, and Philip can see him gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t want to hear the words, he doesn’t even want to think them. They’re the thing that killed Bella.

“And?”

“The-the Killing curse.”

Professor Torrance nods, appeased, and continues making her rounds, firing off questions, finding out who knows what.

When she reaches the front of the room again, she leans against the desk, arms crossed.

“The Killing Curse is one of the most sinister spells wizards know as a whole. It is unblockable.” She says. Archie straightens up, and raises his hand.

“What about Harry Potter?” He asks. Helen nods, pushing off of her desk.

“Harry Potter is the only known wizard to have survived an attempt of the killing curse. He survived it on two separate occasions. But do you know why?” She asks. A few students shake their heads, and the rest remain silent.

Of course they know the story. They’ve been hearing it their whole lives. To some people, it’s like an old wives tale. To some, it’s hope that the Killing Curse can be survived.

“Harry Potter survived because of Sacrificial Protection. When Voldemort attempted to kill the baby, his mother jumped in the way. Her sacrifice was so pure, and her love so great, he could no longer touch Harry.”

“Like a force field?” Asks Liv Woodruff from the back. Helen nods.

“In a way. The protection awarded by the sacrifices enters a persons veins, living on with them. This is what saved him the second time, during the Battle of Hogwarts.” Helen says. All eyes slide to Teddy Lupin, who sits in the back of the room with Victoire, eyes on the desk in front of him, the wood all of a sudden incredibly interesting. Helen clears her throat, trying to draw the attention back.

Whenever the Battle comes up, Teddy’s name does too.

Everyone knows the story of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. They know why Teddy leaves campus on full moons, and why no one is allowed to go with him.

Most of the students at hogwarts were affected in some way. Harry Potter’s own children are attending.

But none with a loss like Teddy’s.

He rakes a hand through his blue hair, and sits back in his chair, gaze lifting from the wood to look around the room. Everyone looks back to the front, and Philip watches as Teddy visibly relaxes with the attention off of him. Victoire murmurs something to him, and he nods his head, brows furrowed slightly.

“So we could survive it? If someone tried?” Liv asks.

“It’s happened all of two times. It isn’t something to bet on. While I hope none of you are ever faced with it, we still live in a dangerous world. It’s important to know. The Killing Curse can also be blocked by an object. Jumping behind something, or blocking the ray is a way to survive it. But…”

Philip’s mind travels, twisting his stomach into knots.

If he could have jumped in the way, maybe Bella would still be alive. He knows it’s useless to think about, as what happened happened, and Bella’s body has long gone cold.

Philip just wishes he had saved her. He wishes he could have tried. Then he could say he did everything possible.

* * *

 

After everyone has left class, Lukas hands back, and Philip stops beside him. The door closes, and Lukas glances down the hall, waiting until it’s clear before looking at Philip.

“The professors are having a meeting in McGonagalls office. It’s about the deaths.”

“When?”

“Now.” He says. He glances to make sure no one is watching, and starts down the hall. Philip follows, jogging to catch up with him.

They wait behind a pillar until Professor Torrance leaves her classroom and heads for McGonagall’s room. Only then do they follow, hanging back. When Helen goes in, and some of the other professors filter in, they move further down the wall. Lukas pulls his wand out, and sticks it against the wall, whispering a charm.

The sound inside the room amplifies, like Lukas’ wand is a set of headphones, and they can both hear easily what’s going on in the room.

* * *

 

“Have there even been enough deaths for us to be worried about?” Professor Kane asks, leaning against the wall, sliding his lazy gaze around the room before settling again on McGonagall.

“Four children have died, Mr. Kane. Four children who were thought to be in one of the safest places in the world.” McGonagall says.

“We don’t know that they’ve died. They could be missing.” He says.

“The bodies have been found. Bottom of the lake.” Neville says.

“What? When?” Kane asks.

“Yesterday morning.”

“Jesus.” He says.

“I know we’re all thinking the same thing.” Says Gabe.

“And what’s that?” Kane asks. Gabe narrows his eyes.

“3 out of the four deaths have been muggle borns. The first had the world mudblood carved into her stomach.”

“Bella Milonkovic was of pure blood.”

“It has to do with their origins. That much is obvious.”

“Again, Bella Milonkovic.” Kane says. McGonagall turns to look at him, something flickering in her eyes.

“If we can discover why the children are being killed, we will be one step closer to stopping it.”

“I just think it’s a pointless path to follow. 3 isn’t a trend. It’s a coincidence.”

“Children are dying, Professor Kane. That isn’t a coincidence.”

Kane averts his gaze, and McGonagall turns to look at Gabe and Helen.

“We need to finish warding the school. If this threat is external, we will keep it out.”

“And if it’s internal?” Neville asks. McGonagall takes a breath, composing herself.

“Then I imagine things are about to get a lot more dangerous.”

* * *

 

As the adults delve further into conversation, Philip’s stomach turning at every word, he and Lukas stay crouched outside the door. Once it goes quiet and the footsteps move for the door, the boys bolt. Lukas drags Philip down a random hall, making sure the hall is clear before he turns to look at him.

“They found Bella.” Philip says. Something flickers in Lukas’ eyes, and he steps back, clamping his eyes shut.

“We have to tell them, Lukas. We have to tell them what we saw.” He says. Lukas’ eyes snap open, and he shakes his head, moving toward Philip.

“No. You can’t tell, Philip. You can’t. You promised.”

“Bella is dead, Lukas! Three other kids are dead! If we saw something, maybe we could help them find the guy. We could-“

“Did you even see him?” Lukas asks. Philip’s brows furrow, lips parting.

“I don’t-I saw a little bit-“

“We’d get expelled if they knew we were down in the tunnels. You yourself said students going down there was forbidden.”

“We have to do something.”

“No.”

“Lukas, we have to-“

“No! We can’t!”

“I don’t want more people to die because we didn’t say anything!”

Lukas takes hold of Philip’s shoulders, and backs him up until he hits the wall. Lukas’ eyes flick from Philip’s eyes to his lips, and backs up. He leans in, brushing his lips against Philip’s. Philip tilts his chin up, eyes fluttering shut. Lukas’ hands go slack on his shoulders, resting against his robe, Lukas’ focus elsewhere.

He pulls away before Philip wants, and he opens his eyes to find Lukas staring at him, eyes sadder than he thought possible.

“Please, Philip. Please.”

Philip promises. Of course, he promises. He already cares far too much about this boy; it’s only downhill from here, and he knows it.

He can’t help but take the jump.

* * *

 

At the memorial service, Philip sits in the back of the room, watching as peoplecome up to lay flowers on Bella and the other dead kids’ caskets. Archie and Hunter drop full bouquets onto the hard wood, and something twists inside of Philip at the sight of Archie wrapping his arms around Hunter, pulling him out of the room. So easily do they touch, even in public. Without any hesitation, without glances around to see if anyone is watching. They kiss and they touch and they give each other smiles reserved for each other, and the selfish part of Philip hates them for it. Hates them because he wants that, but he isn’t sure Lukas will ever be capable of that.

When Lukas comes in, he spends the most time at Bella’s casket, looking at the framed photo of her, her hair blowing in the wind as she tips her back to laugh.

He doesn’t even meet Philip’s eyes when he walks out. His gaze skates right over him, and then he’s pushing out into the hallway, and Philip feels like he’s drowning. But Lukas doesn’t stop, and Philip doesn’t stop him.

He sits against the wall until the room clears out, and all that’s left is him and the four caskets, four too many.

He goes over to Bella’s, and stares at the picture of her. They let Philip choose the picture. Her parents would have gone with some cookie cutter photo, probably of her playing Quidditch, or something like that. But Philip picked the thing Bella would have wanted.

He chose one where she was free.

He spends a long time with his hand on the wood, willing Bella to wake up, willing her to come back.

But the world doesn’t work that way, not for people like Philip. So he leaves her behind, and goes back to his dorm, and falls into a dreamless sleep.


	6. but home is just a room full of my safest sounds

Even though his life has, to some extent, fallen apart with the recent murders, Lukas is finding himself grateful for what he has.

What he has being Philip.

It’s different than longing from afar. Now Philip is near him, beside him, with him. Sometimes he has to remind himself it isn’t a fantasy or a daydream.

The fear of being outed, the fear of being judged, it all goes away when he’s with Philip. Only in the back of his mind is he thinking about how wrong he feels.

Everything feels right when he’s with Philip. It’s almost like a calm comes over him, something that washes away the death and the darkness that seems to follow him around these days.

“Just shut up and follow me.” Philip says, taking Lukas’ hand and pulling him through the dark hall. He has his wand up, lighting the area around them.

Normally, Lukas would pull his hand from Philip’s immediately. Doing this, out in public, where people could see them, is not something Lukas wants. He wants this-whatever _this_ is-to be kept on the down low.

But at this time of night, this deep in the hidden hallways of the school, he isn’t worried about getting caught. He isn’t worried about anything. The fact that a murderer is still walking the school seems a little thing compared to the feel of Philip’s hand in his.

He dreads the moment he has to let it go. He always does.

The scuff of a shoe and a low laugh draws the boys to a halt.

“Lumos.” Philip says, pulling his hand from Lukas’.

The light fills the hall, and the figures of two boys, one pressing the other against the wall, are revealed. The two break apart, and Lukas recognizes them immediately.

Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Potter. Making out in a random hallway in the middle of the night.

Lukas doesn’t know them personally; they’re in his year, but they run in different circles.

Philip seems to know them, though, because he arches his brows, and lowers his wand.

“Look who’s out past curfew.” He says. Scorpio’s lips curl up in a grin, and he shrugs. He pulls away from Albus, whose cheeks are flushed; not out of embarrassment, though. Lukas assumes the red of his cheeks is due to things they were doing before they pulled apart.

“What are you two doing out here? Getting into trouble?” Albus asks.

“Didn’t know that one rolled that way.” Scorpius says, nodding to Lukas. Lukas’ stomach rolls, and he shakes his head, stepping away from Philip.

“We were just-he’s my tutor. We’re not-“

“It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to lie.” Albus says, seeing the the way Lukas starts to stumble over his words.

“How’d you get past Peeves?” Philip asks. Peeves, one of their ghosts, has had a habit of standing outside the Slytherin common room doors, attempting to scare the kids shitless. He finds that Slytherin kids are the hardest to scare, and he likes a challenge.

“We have some tricks.” Scorpius says. Albus lifts his hand, and in a blink, half of Scorpius disappears. Both Philip and Lukas curse. Scorpius wiggles, and appears again, grinning like an idiot.

“Invisibility cloak?” Philip asks. Albus nods.

“Why not just make out under that?” He asks. Scorpius snorts.

“It gets hot under there.” Albus says.

“Hot outside of it, too.” Scorpius says. Philip rolls his eyes, and reaches back, presumably for Lukas’ hand. He tugs it away before Philip can take it; he hopes that the other boys don’t notice, but when both of them avert their gaze, as if to pretend they hadn’t seen it, he knows they have.

“Don’t let Peeves catch you on the way in.” Albus says, grabbing the cloak from the floor and throwing it over himself. Scorpius disappears a minute later, his smirk the last thing to go.

Lukas can hear as they shuffle down the halls; he knows when they’re gone.

He turns back to Philip, whose eyes are on the floor.

“We should probably get out of here.” Lukas says. Philip nods; when he lifts his head, his face has been stripped of emotion.

“Yeah.” Philip says. He starts walking the other direction, away from all of the houses.

“Where are you going?” Lukas asks.

“Not sure. You coming?”

Lukas’ lips curl up in a nervous smile.

“Yeah. Coming.”

He jogs to catch up with Philip, and the two walk silently down the hall; Lukas doesn’t know where they’re going, or if they’re even going anywhere in particular. The silence is awkward; it’s a bit of a new feeling, at least between them.

By the time they reach the stairs, Lukas is squirming in his skin. Philip stays quiet, doing nothing to alleviate the tension.

Lukas steps onto the stairs, and looks over at Philip.

“Philip-“

Before he can finish, the staircases are lurching to the side beneath them. Philip lurches forward, and Lukas grabs him, holding onto the railing with the other hand. The staircase slips around, going up and to the side for what feels like an eternity but is likely just a few seconds before stopping. Philip pulls his arm away, and Lukas coughs up the dust that rose into his face when the staircase moved.

“Little warning next time, maybe?” Lukas calls; he doesn’t know if the staircase is alive and can hear him, but it’s just in case.

“Where are we?” Philip asks, stepping back onto the concrete, looking up and around.

They’re in a part of the school Lukas has never been in. From the look on Philip’s face, it’s new to him, too.

“I have no idea.” Lukas says. He turns to the first door they pass; it’s dark brown, made of thick wood. For a moment, Lukas considers knocking.

Philip pulls out his wand, and flicks it. “Alohomora.”

The door swings open, and though it’s probably dangerous and dumb and bound to get them in trouble, the two go inside.

They find what looks like an old common room. Maybe a lounge for the professors, or something of that sort. It has old couches, a thick rug across the floor, and tall windows. Lukas goes over to them, tugging the curtains back, revealing a view of the forbidden forest. It’s trees stretch in the wind, almost like they’re reaching for something or someone; maybe, he thinks, they are.

“Lukas. Check it out.” Philip calls. Ignoring the skip of his heart at the sound of his name on Philip’s lips, he joins him on the other side of the room, where Philip is inspecting the tall bookcase.

“Theyre fake.”

“What’s fake?”

“The books.” Philip says. Lukas frowns, and reaches out, running a finger along the spine of one of the books. It’s soft under his touch; he prays it’s made of something other than human skin.

Philip grabs one by the edges, and tugs. Instead of it coming out, though, something creaks behind the thick wood and books. The two jump back, and the door swings open to reveal a dark entrance to what appears to be the same set of tunnels they were in just two weeks ago.

Philip’s lips turn down in a frown; it’s obvious he’s thinking about Bella.

Lukas shoves the bookcase shut, and it closes with a soft _snick_.

“I’m sorry. About Bella.” He says. There isn’t anything real his apology can accomplish, but he says it anyway.

Philip has been different since that night. Something about him is quieter, more reserved. He’s become more of a mystery than he already was to Lukas. Every moment he spends with him he’s trying to figure him out. Trying to figure out how the boy with the dark eyes has such power over him, power Lukas didn’t even know existed.

He knows that at some point his parents were young and in love. But it must have dissipated before he was born, because his only memories of his mother up until she died are of her and her father as separate beings.

He doesn’t think he’s in love, but he doesn’t really know what it looks like or feels like, so that’s debatable. All he knows is that he wants to open up Philip’s closets and meet his demons, maybe even slay a few of them. He wants to touch him and kiss him and see him smile.

He turns into a pile of mush around Philip. Part of him hates it, and the rest of him doesn’t care. The rest of him goes giddy when he sees Philip pushing through the door to the library, or when he pulls Philip into a broom closet or around a corner, Philip’s lips parting beneath his.

“Sometimes I still leave her a place at the table beside me. Like she’s gonna show up or something.” Philip says softly, eyes on the dusty spines of the books in front of him.

Lukas turns to look at him, gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“My mom died when I was younger. She got cancer. She was so far along when they found out there was nothing they could do.”

Philip looks over at him, brows knit together.

“It stops hurting so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Lukas pauses, before shifting his hand, bumping into Philip’s. Then he slips his hand into his, threading their fingers together. Philip turns to face him, and Lukas’ other hand comes up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him toward him.

It’s a tentative kiss. Not one of flames and passion and of hearts that sound like drums, but of caution and the things Lukas wishes he could say.

He’s never been good with words. He never wanted to be until he met Philip.

But now, he feels like the world tumble off his lips in a tangled mess, becoming unintelligible before they hit Philip’s ears. That, or he’s too afraid to say what he wants to.

“I told my mom about you.” Philip says, pulling back slightly.

Lukas’ stomach rolls.

“You did?”

“She won’t tell, or anything. I didn’t mean to. But I just-“ Philip stops, lips pressed together.

Lukas’ first instinct is to tug his hand away and run. If Philip’s mom knows, what if she does tell? What if the news gets back to his parents? To his friends?

That could be the end of the life he’s known. He doesn’t think there’s any coming back from that.

The rational part of his brain tells him to believe Philip in that his mother will keep quiet. The rational part of him tells him that it shouldn’t matter if the truth got out.

But every time he thinks about telling everyone about Philip, his throat closes up, and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“If my mom was still alive, I’d tell her about you.” Lukas says quietly. Philip’s lips curl up slightly, and then he’s digging in his pocket.

“Wanna see something?” He asks. Lukas nods.

Philip pulls out a phone, the same one that he showed Lukas a few weeks ago, during their first tutoring session. He moves over to the couch, and drops down onto it. Lukas sits down beside him, legs stretched out in front of him.

Philip fishes something else out of his pocket; a cord that splits into two, little buds on the ends. He plugs it into the bottom of the phone, and puts one of the buds in his ears. Lukas mirrors him with the other.

“I made us a playlist.” Philip says.

“What’s that?” Lukas asks. Philip clears his throat, ears pink.

“Like, a bunch of songs that remind me of us.”

Lukas’ eyes widen, lips parting.

“What? Really?”

“It’s dumb. But I-“

“I wanna listen.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lukas says. Philip’s lips curl up slightly, and he unlocks his phone. Lukas wraps an arm around him, tugging him into his side. He closes his eyes, pressing a kiss to Philip’s head. He likes the way his hair smells, the way it feels against his lips.

He opens his eyes, and watches Philip click things on the phone, having no idea what he’s doing, but assuming he’s getting the list he talked about.

Then music fills his ears, slipping in and dancing around his head. He glances over at Philip, who has his eyes closed, and is humming along to the music.

_All this time/we were waiting for each other/all this time/I was waiting for you_

They spend the next few hours sitting on that couch, heads tipped against each other, music playing. When dinner rolls around, the two reluctantly start heading back to the real world; the world where Lukas can’t hold Philip’s hand, the one where he can’t laugh with him in front of other people.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever reach that point. But he wants to, god, he wants to.

* * *

 

Philip lets Lukas keep the phone for the night, at his request. When he gets back to the house, while the others hang out in the common room, he goes up to his dorm, and lays flat on his back, the buds pressed into his ears, eyes closed.

He listens through the whole playlist three times before he’s shaken back to the present. His eyes snap open, and he sits up, tugging the buds out of his ears.

Lukas finds his father standing over him. His stomach rolls, and he shoves the earbuds under the covers, though he knows his father already saw them.

Bo Waldenbeck sits down beside Lukas, who is trying desperately to force the pink in his cheeks to disappear.

“What is that?” Bo asks. Lukas frowns, and shakes his head.

“What? Nothing.” He lies.

His father narrows his eyes, and looks toward the door.

“What are you doing here, dad?” Lukas asks tentatively.

“I came to assist the auror in the invesigation. But all I hear about is you spending time with a Slytherin boy.”

“Philip? He’s my tutor-“

“He’s muggle born, Lukas. He may be in the right house-“ Lukas doesn’t miss that crack at the house his father, and seemingly everyone, believes he should have been put in, “but that doesn’t make his blood pure. Ive heard things about his family. You need to stay away from him.”

It’s no secret that his entire family-all Slytherin-were disappointed when he was sorted into Gryffindor. As if he had a choice in the matter, as if the sorting hat listened to him.

He asked to be in Slytherin. But the hat told him he belonged somewhere else. The hat told him that he had a bravery he didn’t yet understand, and only in Gryffindor could he become who he was meant to be.

Lukas has yet to figure out what exactly he’s meant for; he often doubts he’s meant for anything at all.

“He’s helping me in muggle studies, dad.” He says.

“You shouldn’t even be taking that class.” His father says, lips turned down.

Lukas drops his gaze to his lap, biting down on his tongue until his mouth fills with metal.

“You need to stay away from all of the muggle borns. Especially Philip. He’s bad news. They’re all bad news.” Bo says.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious, Lukas. If I hear that you’ve been hanging out with that boy, there will be consequences.”

“Okay.” Lukas says.

After a few more minutes of the lecture, Bo leaves. He tells Lukas he won’t be coming home for Christmas, as his father is heading to Romania to oversee some of the dragon training. He’ll be staying at Hogwarts.

He also tells him to get rid of whatever muggle object he has hiding beneath his sheets.

Lukas doesn’t get rid of it. Instead, he pulls the blankets over his head, jams the buds in his ears, and listens until he falls asleep, pretending he lives in a world where what he wants comes easily. Pretending he lives in a world where innocent kids don’t die, where he isn’t a disappointment to everyone, including himself.

Pretending he lives in a world where he and Philip can be together. Happy. Free.

Pretending that’s where he gets to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i couldnt help myself, here's the rough playlist that philip shows lukas
> 
> \- all this time by onerepublic  
> \- stubborn love by the lumineers  
> \- war of hearts by ruelle  
> \- bonfire heart by james blunt  
> \- i found by amber run  
> \- take me to church by hozier  
> \- in my veins by andrew belle  
> \- outlaws by someone's little sister  
> \- from eden by hozier  
> \- tonight lykke li  
> \- wild by troye sivan  
> \- talk me down by troye sivan  
> \- literally the entirety of the blue neighborhood album by troye sivan


	7. my beating heart wanted more

Lukas doesn’t know how he finds the room. He was walking through the halls, trying-in vain-to outrun his thoughts when he happened upon the door. It seemed to appear on the wall out of thin air.

He can’t help but want to go inside. It doesn’t even register in his mind that it could be dangerous. He always thought of Hogwarts as the safest place in the world; he realizes, with a start, that is isn’t anymore. Not for anyone, especially not for the Muggleborns.

Especially not for Philip.

He pulls out his wand, and whispers Alohomora, the door opening with a _snick_. He slips inside, and finds himself standing in a large room, empty save for one large item covered by a blanket in the back of the room. Floor to ceiling windows along the back wall let moonlight in, washing the floor in blue. Lukas steps into it, approaching the covered object, stopping before it and taking the fabric in his hands.

He pulls, and the blanket falls into his arms, dust falling with. It appears to have been covered for a long time; which, Lukas thinks, would have been nice to know before he dragged the dusty fabric onto himself. He coughs the dust from his lungs, and shoves the blanket aside.

He finds himself looking into a tall mirror. Taller than him by far, with clawed feet and a golden frame with the words “Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi” scrawled into the top. Lukas frowns, and lets his gaze fall to meet his eyes in the mirror.

It is then he sees he is not alone.

Philip stands beside him in his reflection. Lukas has an arm around his waist, and he is bending down, pressing a kiss to Philip’s temple. Philip’s eyes are squeezed shut, squirming away from Lukas with a smile. Near the back, his father stands with his mother. They look upon the boys with a smile. They stay for only a moment before moving out of frame.

Then it’s just him and Philip. Philip looks up at Lukas, a teasing smile on his lips. Lukas turns to face him, arms winding around him. Philip reaches up, fingers tangling in his hair as he tugs him down to kiss him.

Lukas, the real Lukas, turns in a slow circle. The room is empty, quiet as a morgue. There’s no one here to charm him, or to trick him.

Seeing him and Philip in the mirror, fake charm or not, makes his stomach twist. He wants so badly to be the Lukas in the mirror. He wants to kiss Philip after a big quidditch game, and convince him to wear his Gryffindor scarf as a cheesy show of support. He wants to drag him from the grand hall in front of everyone, their reason for sneaking off obvious.

He wants to be normal. He wants to be happy. He doesn’t want the thought of being seen with the boy he’s come to care so fiercely about making him flush with shame.

A small part of him hopes that the mirror is the future, but the logical part of him knows better.

Lukas doesn’t hope for things anymore. Not after months of hoping that his mother would be okay, hoping that there was some magic, or even muggle medicine, that would save her, only to watch her wither away in her bed until there was nothing left.

He isn’t naive enough to hope that he and Philip will have a happy ending. Hell, Philip’s best friend was murdered the first time they kissed. They have been marked for failure since the minute they locked eyes first year, the minute Lukas’ stomach turned over at the sight of the boy with the messy brown hair.

For a moment, just a moment, Lukas lets himself pretend things had gone differently. He had been sorted into the house his father wanted. He met a 12 year old Philip, and befriended him. As they grew up, they grew into each other. By now, they’d been together for years. He would know his way around Philip’s head, around his skin, around his heart. There would be no uncertainty or death or fear. They would be happy. So badly does he wants to be that Lukas, too.

The creak of the door behind him pulls him back to the present. He turns back, wand out in a millisecond, fearing that the man who killed Bella Milonkovic has found him. He’s going to kill him, then he’s going to feel empty Philip. _Philip_.

To Lukas’ relief, the door stands empty; a draft from the hallway likely the reason for it’s creaking. Lukas lets out a breath, and tucks his wand away. He rakes a hand through his hair, and looks back at the mirror.

It’s stupid to be out of his house this late. Though Peeves mainly goes after Slytherin, he won’t hesitate to make a racket and wake up one of the professors if he sees some one out after curfew. He gets bored at night. No one can blame him.

Right now, the last thing Lukas wants to do is go to bed. He wants to see Philip. So instead of going back to the Gryffindor house, he goes the other direction.

He doesn’t consider the fact that he has no way to get in to see Philip until he’s standing outside the Slytherin door, arguing with the thick-accented woman in the frame blocking it.

“You must have the password, or you can’t go in. It is as simple as that.”

“I don’t want to go in. I just want to talk to him.” Lukas says, arms crossed against his chest, brows furrowed.

“No password, no go.” The woman says, arching a thick brow.

“For merlin’s sake, Melinda, just open the door. It’ll get him to shut up.” Says a boy’s voice from behind Lukas. He turns, and finds himself standing in front of a dark skinned boy, a thick brow arched.

“You’re-“

“Archie. And you’re Lukas.” He says, a smile tugging on his mouth. Lukas’ lips part, and he realizes he has absolutely no reason to be here. He doesn’t have an excuse as to why he’s trying to get into the Slytherin house at 2 in the morning. Not one he’s willing to broadcast to this stranger; he can’t even imagine telling his best friend, Rose, about Philip.

“I-uh-“ Lukas stammers.

“I’ll get Philip.” Archie says.

“No-you don’t-that’s not-“

“It’s okay, man. I’m not blind. I do live with the guy.”

Lukas’ cheeks flush scarlet, and his gaze darts away for a moment before he looks back at Archie.

“Is it-is it that obvious?”

“No. I can just tell.” Archie says, shrugging.

The way he says it, like it isn’t a big deal, makes Lukas’ stomach roll. How badly he wishes he could have that attitude about it. How badly he wishes he didn’t have to hide.

“Just wait here. And stop arguing with Matilda. She’s impossible.” Archie says. He turns back to the painting, and whispers a word too low for Lukas to hear. Matilda gives Lukas a sour look as the door swings open, blocking her from Lukas’ view, and closes again.

Then the painting is glaring at him all over again. Lukas frowns, and turns away, moving to lean against the pillar, arms crossed against his chest.

A moment later the painting swings open, and out steps a disheveled Philip, wearing only plaid pajama pants. He frowns when he sees Lukas, who immediately shrugs off his robe, handing it to Philip. Philip takes it, wrapping the too-long fabric around himself.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Philip asks, coming to join Lukas by the pillar. Lukas shakes his hand, hands moving to Philip’s waist.

“I-I just-“ Lukas trips over his words, at a loss.

“Missed me?” Philip asks, quirking a brow. Lukas can’t help but smile, rolling his eyes.

“No way.”

“Liar.”

Lukas laughs, and bends down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Philip’s hands move to Lukas’ hair, and he tangles his fingers in it, tugging Lukas back down to meet him. He smiles against Lukas’ lips before letting his own part.

Lukas pulls back after a moment, and grins at Philip.

“Wanna do something reckless?” He asks. Philip snorts.

“I’m not the Gryffindor here.”

Lukas scoffs, to which Philip laughs.

“What exactly are we doing?” He asks. Lukas smiles.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

 

“We’re definitely going to get caught.” Philip says, turning his head to speak over his shoulder. Lukas sets his chin on Philip’s shoulder, arms wrapped around him. He swerves on his broom, making Philip yelp.

“Asshole.” Philip mumbles over Lukas’ laughter.

“You _do_ know how to ride a broom, don’t you?” Lukas asks.

“Yes. I just don’t know that _you_ do.”

“I’ve seen you at my games!” Lukas exclaims. Philip snickers, and twists in Lukas’ arms, swinging his legs over so that he’s straddling the broom, facing Lukas. His knees hang over Lukas’, and he keeps a hold on the front of Lukas’ shirt to keep from falling.

“Exactly.”

“You talk a big game for someone who is riding someone else’s broom.” Lukas says. Philip narrows his eyes.

“Lukas.” He says, a warning in his voice. Lukas beams, and dips the broom toward the ground. They start to plunge; Lukas, prepared, Philip, not so much. A yelp slips through Philip’s lips, and he grabs onto Lukas’ shoulder, holding on for dear life.

After a few seconds of free fall, Lukas levels them out, laughing. Philip pulls his hands off, an evil look on his face.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Oh, am I?”

“An idiot who isn’t getting kissed.” Philip says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Philip says pointedly.

Lukas pouts, and ducks on the broom again, this time with more control. Philip grabs onto him again, curses that Lukas isn’t familiar with spilling out of his mouth.

Lukas lowers them to the ground, where Philip climbs off as quickly as possible, raking a hand through his wind-tossed hair.

“I’m never getting on that thing with you again.” He says. Lukas smiles, setting the broomstick on the ground, stepping over it to reach Philip. He snakes an arm out, tugging Philip against him, the two rocking back until Philip is bumping into the wooden structure that holds the stands. He carefully steps over the wooden slats, pulling Lukas deeper into the inside of the stands, until they’re lost in the maze.

Only then does he pull Lukas down to him, lips pressed against his.

“I’m still pissed you tried to kill me.” Philip mumbles, breaking from Lukas’ kiss for half a moment.

“I can tell.” Lukas says. Philip smiles against his mouth, and pulls back, looking over his shoulder at the dark and empty field just outside the bleachers.

“I wanna see the stars.” Philip says. Lukas nods, and takes a step back, the two carefully maneuvering their way back out to the grassy field. They walk straight into the middle before dropping to the ground, both on their backs. Lukas holds an arm out, and Philip tucks into his side.

He fishes his phone out of his pajama pants pockets, and messes around with it for a moment before music starts to pump from the small rectangle. Philip lets it sit on his stomach, and closes his eyes.

“I thought you wanted to see the stars?” Lukas murmurs. Philip smiles, tipping his chin up, eyes still shut.

“I forgot how much I liked to sleep.” He says. Lukas tips his head back, lips curling up in a smile.

“You can sleep. I’ll watch them for us both.”

“Okay.” Philip whispers. "Okay."

* * *

 

Lukas wakes the next morning to silence. His roommates are already out, though it’s the weekend, and no one has any classes. He gets dressed quickly, heading down to the common room, wondering if he somehow missed the memo about what the hell is going on.

What he finds, however, is his entire house sitting around the room, tragedy weighing heavily on their features. He frowns, coming down the stairs. The head girl, Victoire Weasley, sits on the bottom, and looks up when Lukas reaches the last step.

Normally, Victoire is smiling, laughing, making noise, teasing Teddy. But right now, she has become muted. A ghost of the girl Lukas grew up beside.

“What’s going on?”

“They found 2 bodies in the lake this morning.” Victoire asks in a low voice.

The breath is stamped from Lukas’ lungs.

“Who?” He asks.

Victoire looks up at him, shaking her head.

“Leah Leverly.”

Lukas’ knees buckle, and he drops to a seat on the stair, grabbing onto the railing.

“But-she-she’s-“

“Practically a baby.” Victoire says, voice hollow, gaze sliding along the room and settling on the lit fire in the fireplace.

“Was it…” Lukas says, unable to even finish.

“She was muggle born, after all. Not even 12 years old.” Victoire says. Lukas lets out a breath, heart breaking for the small girl who he often saw out practicing on her broom, in the hopes of playing quidditch the next year. A small girl with a big smile and a loud voice and a world of potential.

Only at Hogwarts for a few months, she had already mastered the beginning spells other struggled just to understand.

Gone, just like that. Gone for her blood, for what her blood means to whoever decided she needed to die.

Lukas ducks his head, fingers interlacing in his hair. He closes his eyes, trying not to think about the small body that will be carefully placed in a casket and sent home to her parents. Parents who were told they had nothing to worry about at Hogwarts; nothing to worry about since Voldemort was defeated.

He’s so caught up in the death of Leah Leverly that it doesn’t hit him immediately that Victoire said two bodies.

His head snaps up, the fast movement getting her attention.

“Who was the other body?” He asks. Victoire’s lips part, and she shakes her head.

“A slytherin. From out year. I don’t know his name-“

With that, Lukas is shoving to his feet, pushing past her, running through the crowd of mourning Gryffindor students.

He won’t lose Philip, too. He won’t. He won’t go pay his respects in the great hall, still having to pretend Philip didn’t mean everything to him.

Philip is everything. He won’t lose him.

He runs through the halls, the only one out, until he reaches the Slytherin door, which sits open, uncharacteristic of any of the houses.

He can hear Melinda weeping in her painting, but doesn’t stop before jogging inside.

Their common room is empty; one look out the window as he goes up the stairs reveals the majority of them outside in the snow. Maybe they couldn’t stand to feel warm when the two who had died-one of their own-could not.

Bile rises in Lukas’ throat, and he pushes the room of each room open until he finally finds one with someone inside.

Sitting against the headboard, a crying Hufflepuff boy named Hunter curled against him, sits Archie. His eyes aren’t wet, but he doesn’t have to cry for Lukas to see the pain on his face. He doesn’t so much as move.

“Tell me it wasn’t him.” Lukas says. Archie lifts his eyes to Lukas’, lips parting.

Part of him doesn’t want to know the answer. In this moment, he doesn’t have a confirmation. In this moment, he doesn’t know if Philip is alive or dead.

Sometimes, not knowing is better than knowing.

“Lukas.” Someone says from behind him. Lukas turns to find Philip standing in the doorway, his hands bright red, like he’s been running them beneath hot water.

Everything inside of Lukas collapses, and then he’s rushing the door, and pushing Philip out before pulling him into his arms, wrapping his arms around him.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” Lukas says, face tucked into Philip’s hair.

Philip pulls back, eyes shining.

“I’m okay.” Philip says, eyes flicking around Lukas’ face. His hands come up to settle on Lukas’ neck.

“I thought it was you, Philip. I thought it was you. I thought you were dead, and I was alone again. I thought-“ He trips over his words, unable to speak them through; Philip pulls him back against him, burying his face in Lukas’ shirt.

“I won’t let it be you, Philip. I won’t.” Lukas whispers.

He holds on for another minute, trying to memorize the way Philip feels against him, the way he smells, the way their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

Only when he’s sure he’ll never forget the outline of Philip’s face does he pull away.

“It was James. They found him in the lake this morning.” Philip says softly, face falling.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Philip.”

Philip shakes his head, lips pressed together.

“He was an asshole. But he was one of my best friend. They just keep dying.” Philip says.

First, Bella. Now, James. James and Bella Milonkovic and Leah Leverly and Elias Chambers and Alan Abbott and, of course, Millicent Gingrich.

All gone, all taken. No one able to stop them.

Lukas could have done something. If they had just told that night, maybe Leah and James wouldn’t be dead. If they hadn’t run, maybe he could have saved Bella.

All of the maybe’s slam into him, guilt pouring over him.

His fault, his fault.

If he wasn’t so afraid, maybe they would all still be alive. Maybe he wouldn’t have to see the look on Philip’s face as he loses another friend. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go back into Philip’s room and look Archie and Hunter in the eyes, when the deaths are his fault.

He’ll fix it. Somehow, he’ll fix it. He has to.

No one else can die because of him.

Because, one day soon, Philip’s name will be next on that list. And that, Lukas knows, he’d never come back from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * the ages of the characters included from the canonverse (victoire, scorpius, etc) have been adjusted to fit the fic


End file.
